If someone would hire me, that is.
I grab a salad to-go at a smoothie shop downtown, which isnothiring according to their main smoothie girl, and then sit by the water to eat my lunch.After a peaceful break, I hit the pavement again.This time, I drop my application at the rest of the businesses downtown, including a cardiology clinic run by Dr.Dominic Daly, because why not?I’m feeling a little desperate, and there are only so many businesses in Bayshore.I might have to start looking in the next town over if I don’t get some good news in the next few days.
At 4:30, my stomach is rumbling again and I feel like I’ve reached my limit of job application disappointment.I’d hoped to hit it off with some friendly hiring manager and get hired on the spot, but no such luck.I pause near the intersection of Main Street and Water Street, distracted by the way the water reflects off the glass windows of the Hazel Homes corner office.
I watch the play of late afternoon light on the windows, rainbows and beautiful lake-reflection shimmers, until I realize Hazel Daly herself is standing behind the window, laughing and waving at me.I snap to attention and wave back, noticing her husband Grayson inside as well.They’re probably wondering why I’m just staring like a dolt at them, so I push open the door and say,
“The light was reflecting really pretty on the windows, and I got lost in thought.I didn’t even realize you guys were in here.”
“I thought you were wanting to buy a house,” Hazel says warmly.“But you’re out of town now, right?You moved to…”
“Chicago,” I supply for her.I’m surprised she remembers, with how many clients she has and how many people she knows.“If I ever need a house in Bayshore, you know you’re my first stop.”
I wander off, wondering what to do with the rest of my day.I have an extremely spicy cowboy romance burning a hole in my purse that I’d love to get lost in…or maybe I should ground myself with some Bayshore friend time.I weigh the pros and cons of each—Iloooovea cozy book nook moment, after all—and ultimately decide I need to surround myself with laughter and people, because otherwise, I might travel down a not-so-happy path.I am battling feelings of failure, rejection, and disappointment at every turn.After the three-for-one special of losing my job, home, and boyfriend, I’m still struggling to come up for air.
Friends it is.I pull out my phone and text a few of my old high school pals that I know are still around: Julie, Sara, Roxie.I invite them to meet up with me at Crush, the wine bar downtown, for dinner and drinks.They have an outdoor patio that is divine with a wine list that rivals what I’d find in Chicago.
And then my finger pauses over Griffin’s name.Despite my intense focus on the job hunt, I’ve been thinking of Griffin nonstop in the back of my mind.Not to mention that damn hug we shared yesterday.I would mount that man faster than the heroine mounts her cowboy in my current romance read.I felt what he’s hiding under that thin shirt and designer jeans.He’s made of muscle and heat and topped with a cologne that I can still smell if I close my eyes.Maybe I’m ovulating, or maybe I’ve wanted Griffin since sophomore year.Who knows.A wave of longing crashes through me, and I open up a new message.
Fuck it.I’m messaging him.
CASEY: Hey Griff!Any plans for dinner tonight?I’m gathering up a few from Bayshore High at Crush.6ish?Hope you can join.
That seems reasonable and friendly and not at all coated in ovulation-tinged longing.
My girlfriends respond, and soon we’ve got a reservation for a party of four at Crush.I’m definitely not checking my phone every two minutes for word from Griffin.Before I head to the wine bar, I make a plan for the rest of the evening.After all, I’m not trying to be the same hot mess of my past.Back home in Bayshore, I feel haunted by my past transgressions, which Claire has already made sure to resurrect.
I’ve always been the hot mess little sister.The one who spills things on herself and others.The one who makes things awkward, or says the wrong thing, or in extreme cases, ruins high school graduation parties by opting against a Claire-selected dress because it was too itchy and therefore ruining the planned color coordination for the photos by showing up in sweats.I’m trying to prove that’s not the case anymore, but with a failed relationship, lost job, and no home to speak of until August, it’s, well…hard.I feel like more of a hot mess than ever before.
But I don’t want anyone to know the truth: that I’m a failure.That I’m lost.That what I thought was right has turned out to be so, so wrong for me.I’m still grappling with that one.I’d found the right job.I lived in the right city, with all sorts of amazing opportunities at my fingertips.I found the right guy, or at least I’d thought so, until he surprised me by kicking me out of our shared apartment and complaining that I had my head in the clouds.
And still, after doing everything right, I ended up back home with my tail between my legs and far too many kitchen appliances cluttering the backseat of my little sedan.
So that means I need to go out of my way to show my family, and Bayshore, that I amnota hot mess anymore.I park my car in a safe little zone of public parking downtown, because I’m planning on drinking and using a rideshare later.I touch up my makeup before I get out of the car, locking it twice, and mentally pat myself on the back.I even have my current read with me, because who knows when I’ll be able to snag a few minutes of catching up with my cowboy hero.
I get to Crush a little early, and it’s not too busy, so they seat me at the table.I immediately pull out my novel, feeling a devilish glee as I resume reading in the quiet, fragrant wine bar.This is the life.Just after a server comes to drop off water and menus, Griffin finally responds.
GRIFFIN: I might be able to stop out later.I’ll text and see where you guys are if I can.
I nibble at the inside of my lip.It’s non-committal, which is fine, but I’m dying for another chance to see this man.Even though we’ll both be in Bayshore for the summer, I’m not positive that means we’ll cross paths.Griffin is a famous professional athlete, for god’s sake.He’s way out of my league, no pun intended.
Memories of his bulging biceps and hickory tresses haunt me as I return my attention to my novel.Suddenly, the cowboy hero is not riding horses in my mind’s eye but holding a hockey stick.I blink rapidly.Griffin is absolutely romance-hero material, but I need to stay focused on the book at hand.Reading is my hobby, my passion, the true love of my life, and I keep meticulous track of my reads.So I don’t want to be confusing this cowboy romance for a hockey romance just because I can’t get Griffin out of my head.
Soon Sara shows up, pulling me into the type of hug that makes me realize how much I needed one.Then Roxie rolls in, announcing in a loud voice that she’s starving, single, and hoping to fix both tonight.Finally Julie slides into her seat without a hello and demands I spill all the details about Chicago, my love life, and more.We have a loud, happy reunion.Wine is ordered, followed by truffle fries and scallop appetizers, and then a full spread of pasta and pizza between the four of us.We are raucous, laughing, and having an excellent time catching up.
Sara suggests we grab cocktails at High-5s after this, to which of course we all agree.I’m ready for this; Ipreparedfor this.We walk with linked arms to High-5’s a couple blocks over, the night air feeling so refreshing and invigorating that I temporarily forget I’m unemployed, homeless, and dumped.
Mission: accomplished.
Except for one tiny piece of the puzzle tonight, which is Griffin.I haven’t heard from him, which makes my increasingly tipsy heart sad.As Sara orders a round of drinks at High-5’s, I wonder if his offer to connect during my time in Bayshore might have just been a nicety.I’m ruminating on the possibility that all those sparks I felt yesterday had been one-sided.Maybe I’d simply been dazzled by his biceps and his powerful, athletic frame.He probably saw me spill that drink on myself and was just counting the seconds until he could run away.
After all, that’s the gist of what I heard from Jake during our breakup.“You need to get your shit together, Casey.”The worst parting words from a man I’d spent three years pouring love and attention into.
I clink my freshly arrived mint julep with the girls, smiling brightly and trying not to think about any ofthat.I came here to decompress, not wallow.The mint julep packs a punch, though, and Roxie soon confirms that the bartender poured us extra.
Oh, great.Now I’m really going to be drunk.
“I’m so glad we did this tonight,” Roxie says after a demure sip.
